


William & Rita

by lumosdragon



Category: BLYTON Enid - Works, The Naughtiest Girl - Enid Blyton
Genre: Childhood Friends, F/M, Flashbacks, Friends to Lovers, Loss of Parent(s), References to Depression
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:15:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 7,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27691975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumosdragon/pseuds/lumosdragon
Summary: William, the Head Boy, has always been a model of cheerful respectability (except when he wasn't). Rita, the Head Girl, is always a calm and comforting shoulder to lean on (except when she's not). Their first year at Whyteleafe School was rocky, but Rita's persistence helped bind them together as friends. Now they're all grown up, and William is determined to help his best friend get through their last year - no matter what that means for their relationship.
Relationships: William/Rita
Comments: 8
Kudos: 8





	1. Sixth Form

**Author's Note:**

> I have been writing this story on and off since 2012. It was created for exactly one person (me), but I don't know, maybe there's another stranger out there who is as deeply invested in minor "Naughtiest Girl" characters as I am. In which case: congratulations, this is for you too!
> 
> The current-day scenes take place during the events of "The Naughtiest Girl in the School."

“Well, that was an alright meeting, don’t you think?” Rita asked. She paused on the staircase and waited patiently for William to join her.

“I suppose,” William sighed. He tugged at his tie, and then undid it altogether in a fit of frustration. “All except for that Elizabeth Allen!”

Rita took the tie from his hands and smoothed it out. “Calm down. She’s new. She’ll learn.”

“I do hope so!”

“Oh, don’t tell me you don’t remember what it was like to be a new student at Whyteleafe.” She cocked one eyebrow knowingly and almost cracked a grin. “Of all people, William Robinson can’t forget.”

William hesitated. For a moment it looked like he was going to get angrier; then he smiled and bumped Rita with his shoulder. “Alright, so I had my dark days. But I had you to help, didn’t I?”

Now it was Rita turn to flush.

“Well,” she murmured, trying in vain to hide her smile, “I’m sure Elizabeth Allen will find someone to help her too.”

“I hope so.” William passed a hand over his face and yawned. “I think I’m going to have an early night. See you tomorrow?”

“Sure. ‘Night.”

“Goodnight.”

They hovered in the hallway for a moment. Their hands brushed as they turned to leave, but both pretended not to have noticed.


	2. First Form

“I won’t.”

Miss Winston blinked. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

William glared up at her with enormous blazing eyes. “I WON’T. I said I won’t, and you can’t make me!”

Against her better judgement, Miss Winston let her eyes flicker over the rows of other students in her classroom. They were quiet as usual, but she could tell they were starting to get restless, glancing at each other with a sort of excited bemusement.

Well, this had to be nipped at the bud. Miss Winston turned back to the furious child and, in her coolest voice, said: “Well, I suppose if you _won’t_ finish your recitation, you won’t mind waiting outside until the class is over?”

“I tell you I WON’T do A THING!” William crossed his arms and tossed his unruly hair. “I tell you I won’t!”

“Young man” – and now Miss Winston’s voice was beyond cool, it was the temperature of ice – “you _will_ leave this classroom when I ask you.”

For the first time since the beginning of his outburst, William hesitated.

“Fine,” he declared at last, “I’m going outside. But only because I WANT to, not because you asked me!”

The other children had begun to mutter. The last thing William heard as he shoved out the door was Miss Winston’s crisp call for silence.

He hesitated in the middle of the hallway for a moment, then slumped to the floor by the wall, listening to the enthusiastic chatter coming from inside the classroom. His eyes were prickling, and he was horrified to realize that he was on the verge of tears.

 _No_ , he willed himself, _No, don’t start. You’ll only be proving her right. You’ll only be proving all of them right_.

And now he was thinking about the rest of “them.” The aunt, with her dried-prune lips pursed and puckered and painted red like old blood. The uncle, with his bulldog jowls and balding head and beady black eyes. The aunt’s handkerchief, dabbing at dry eyes; the uncle’s moustache, twirled between two sausage fingers; both of them murmuring condolences, both of them reaching out to him with terrible unfamiliar hands...

At first they were tolerant of his tantrums. Displeased, but tolerant.

“Poor child,” sniffed the aunt to her old, shriveled friends, “It is quite a trial, losing one’s parents so young. It is no wonder he acts out so. More tea, anyone?”

“An automobile accident,” rumbled the uncle to his staid, serious colleagues, “Hmm, yes, quite the tragedy. Did you hear the news about Germany?”

Hearing their attempts at sympathy just made William angrier, and the angrier he got, the worse his tantrums became. Soon they had lost their tolerance. They loomed over him, eyes burning with hellfire, voices sharp and clipped and dagger-like, shoving their way under his skin.

“You will never live up to your dear departed parents, you ungrateful creature!”

“You will never amount to anything – little beast!”

“The Lord knows we have been patient, but not even He can expect us to withstand this torment from Lucifer himself!”

“We cannot keep such a tyrant in our house!”

“We cannot keep such a tyrant in our _sight!_ ”

They sent him off to boarding school. He heard them talking to their irritating acquaintances. “Whyteleafe is considered the best. It will straighten the boy out. He will learn some manners yet.”

Not if he could help it. He couldn’t do anything about them bundling him off to the beastly school, but there was plenty he could do to make their lives miserable, even from miles and miles away. They didn’t want him, did they? Well, then he was going to try his very best to come back. Life with his aunt and uncle was living hell, but that was what his parents had wanted for him, so he was going to make it happen.

The classroom door creaked open. William jumped to his feet, wiping furiously at his damp eyes. Miss Winston peered down at him frostily.

“Are you ready to join the class, Mr. Robinson?”

Her lips were as prune-like as his aunt’s.

William stared at her. He clasped his hands behind his back, took a deep breath, and said the rudest word he knew.

Miss Winston jerked back. Her mouth fell open; she gasped like a dying fish. William looked her right in the eye and smiled.

It took her a moment to collect herself. Then:

“Right. _Right_. Mr. Robinson, I believe you are far overdue for a visit to the heads.”


	3. Sixth Form

There was a knock at the door. William glanced up from his notebook.

“Come in!”

It was Rita, of course. No one else would approach the Head Boy’s private office in the middle of the night. Technically no one was even allowed to leave their dorm rooms at such ungodly hours, but that was one rule Rita and William had never really bothered with.

“Are you still studying for French?” Rita asked, quietly closing the door behind her.

“Yes,” William sighed, turning back to his book, “There’s so much work this term. I mean, I expected it, but now that I really have to face it...well, it’s difficult, isn’t it?”

“Hmm. Yes.” Rita paced to the window, staring out at the darkness for a moment before coming back to stand by his desk. “William?”

“Yes?”

“About Elizabeth Allen.”

He looked up, a bit sharply. “What about her?”

Rita looked him steadily in the eye. “I’ve been thinking about it. Do you think you were too harsh on her at the meeting?”

“No, I don’t.” He tried to look defiant, but attempting to stare down Rita made him feel like a bit of an idiot. “Why?”

“I realized I forgot to tell you. I met her in town a while back. She’d gone to the market all on her own.”

William shrugged. “Well, all the more reason to discipline her. Why didn’t you bring it up before?”

“I told you, I forgot.” Rita moved a few papers out of the way and sat down on top of William’s desk, turning to face him. “Anyway, I think I dealt with it fine. I asked her to make friends with Joan Townsend.”

“Did you? What did she do then?”

“Joan was the only one who had anything nice to say about Elizabeth at the meeting. She must have done something.”

“Hmm.” William sat back and exhaled. After a moment – “Maybe I was a bit harsh.”

Rita nodded sagely. “I’m not saying that she doesn’t need discipline, but...”

He turned to her, a little lost for words. “You were always better at this than me.”

Rita offered him one of her rare smiles. “Well, you were always better than me at other things. The joking, the laughter…”

They sat in the silence of the nighttime office for a while, staring at the incomplete French assignment strewn across William’s desk.

Rita tried unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn behind her hand. “I suppose I should be getting back to my room.”

“Oh – yes – of course.”

She stood up. He stood up.

“See you tomorrow morning.”

“Good luck with French.”

After she had left, he stared down at his notebook again, before finally putting it away with a sigh of defeat.


	4. First Form

Rita stared at the heads with wide and slightly panicked eyes.

“Me? You...you want me to help?”

Miss Belle smiled gently at the shakiness in the little girl’s voice.

“Yes. You.”

Rita turned her gaze down to her hands, twisting and fidgeting in her lap.

“But...but...I don’t know him very well. And” – she spoke in a shy, sheepish whisper – “he’s...he’s _scary_.”

“And that’s just why we think you might be able to help him,” Miss Best cut in, “People who seem scary are often just lonely.”

“We have heard good things about you, Rita,” said Miss Belle quietly, “We have heard that you are very kind, and willing to help anyone in need. We believe William Robinson is in need.”

Rita opened her mouth, then closed it dumbly. She could feel her cheeks growing hot. Fancy the heads hearing good things about her!

“It’s an extremely important task, Rita,” Miss Best added, “But you needn’t continue with it if you feel that you cannot. All we ask is that you try.”

“Well – well –” Rita swallowed, and then she held her head high, trying to look as brave as she could. “Alright.”

Miss Belle smiled her lovely smile. “Thank you, Rita. We know you will do your best.”

Once she was outside the office, Rita felt her insides weaken and collapse. A task from the headmistresses – just for her! And about Mad William, no less. She knew all about him, of course. Everyone in the form did, and in every form above and below. He yelled at teachers. He was always getting sent out of class. He knew all sorts of terrible words, and he was not afraid to use them.

Rita looked at her teachers in awe. Rita had never been sent out of class before. Rita was very, very quiet – she hardly said a normal word, let alone a terrible one. The idea of even attempting to talk to William made her feel quite faint.

And yet – the heads said they trusted her. That had to mean something. It _did_ mean something. It meant that Rita had something grand to live up to, and she was _going_ to do it, even if she died trying – which, at the moment, seemed likely.

Rita didn’t go to her usual reading corner in the common room that night. Instead she stood in the middle of the room, took a few breathes, and walked as stolidly as she could to William, who was hunched over by the wall, beating against the carpet with his pen. Ink spurted all around him; Rita knew he would be in great trouble if one of the monitors saw.

She paused a little way away from him – she just couldn’t bring herself to move any further – and cleared her throat.

“Er...hello.”

It came out sounding like a squeak. William glanced up at her; his eyes were surprisingly brown, and also very angry. She almost squeaked again, just from plain fright, but then she coughed and tried again.

“Hello!”

William looked up properly. She wanted to turn and run, but she bravely kept her post. She even dragged up some sort of smile and raised her hand in an attempt at a wave.

“My...my name is Rita. We, er, we’re in Miss Winston’s class together.”

William snarled and said one of his terrible words. Rita flinched.

“Um, al...alright, I’ll...leave you, then.”

She scurried back to her corner as quickly as she could. Her breath was coming too fast. There was a little bit of shame curling in her stomach, but mostly she was overwhelmed by relief at having escaped with all her body parts intact. Mad William indeed!

Susan and Lily watched her curiously as she jumped into her usual seat.

“Did you –?”

“No! Nothing! Nothing happened at all!” Rita stammered, and then she buried her face behind her book.

For a while she stayed there, breathing hard, looking at the words but not really seeing them.

Someone coughed, pointedly.

“No, I said it was nothing –” Rita insisted, finally daring to peek out from behind the covers at Susan. Only it wasn’t Susan.

William patted down his hair with one hand and stared down at his feet.

“Oh!” The squeak was back again. “Oh, William, I –”

“Sorry,” William interrupted. His voice was gruff, but not actually rude at all. “I didn’t – I didn’t mean to –” He finally looked her in the face, with eyes as brown as ever, but less angry. “I thought you were making fun of me.”

“Oh,” Rita said again. She put down her book. “I wasn’t.”

“Yes. I know.” He stared back down at the ground. “It’s just...people usually are.”

Rita remembered what the heads had told her – about scary people really just being lonely.

When she spoke, her voice was not wobbly or even particularly quiet. “I just wanted to know if you’d like to come with me to the village tomorrow. I need some stamps.”

The surprise that dawned on William’s face was almost funny; Rita felt an unfamiliar thrill of warmth run through her. “Really? Er, I mean, I don’t – they wouldn’t give me any money this week.”

“That’s alright.” She smiled, sudden and bright. “You can share with me.”


	5. Sixth Form

Rita was old enough to go down to the village by herself, but that didn’t mean she never went with others.

Eileen was bright and happy, the friendliest person Rita knew, but she was also surprisingly quiet. Rita never minded, especially since she herself wasn’t the most talkative of people. They weren’t in the same form, but they were still quite good friends. Whenever they were both free, they often made plans together.

“You’ll be leaving Whyteleafe soon,” Eileen said as they walked down the street.

Rita didn’t answer right away. She took off her hat and traced the brim with her finger. “Yes.”

“It will be so odd at first, won’t it? Knowing that you’re never going to get back on the train.”

It _was_ odd. It was very, very odd. Whenever she thought about it, Rita felt a little twinge in her stomach. She wasn’t sure if it was excitement or, perhaps, fear.

“At Whyteleafe, everyone knows who you are,” Eileen continued, “They know you, and they respect you. Outside of Whyteleafe, you’ll have to build your reputation from scratch, all over again.”

“Is that really a bad thing?” Rita asked quietly.

Eileen looked slightly surprised. “Well, I didn’t really think about that. I suppose...it might be nice, in a way. No one needs to know your mistakes or flaws. But what would _you_ want to hide, Rita?”

She meant it kindly, Rita knew, but it still made her sad to hear. There wasn’t anything to hide – and that was the problem. She was clever Rita, solemn Rita, perfect Head Girl Rita. That’s what they knew her as. That’s all she was to them. It was nice, but…it was only one thing in a multitude of things. There were thousands of different personalities she might have, outside of Whyteleafe’s Golden Girl.

“Rita?”

Rita started. “Hmm – yes?”

“Do you think you’ll ever see any of your old friends from school?” Eileen asked, “Once you’ve left?”

“Perhaps,” she replied.

“It would be sad to never see them again.”

Perhaps. Perhaps. But perhaps it wouldn’t be. Perhaps it would help her leave behind the image of the grave gray-eyed child, whose title was her only defining characteristic. Even Eileen – once in a while she would slip up and glance at Rita with that reverence in her eyes. No one really seemed to think of her as anything other than the Head Girl.

Of course – it was also possible that there really was nothing she could be but Head Girl. And that was the most terrifying possibility of all.


	6. First Form

It was very, very difficult explaining William. And she did have to explain – to her friends, to her classmates, even to teachers. It felt sometimes like she was explaining to the whole world.

“He’s not too bad,” she tried to say.

“He’s not really that mean.”

“Not that rude.”

“Not that terrible!”

He _was_ that angry. Fury rose up behind his eyes, in the clench of his teeth and the tightening of his fists – not as often as it had in the beginning, but it was definitely still there. The anger did not go away. Still, there was something buried under that anger.

The first time she heard him laugh, really laugh, was on their first trip down to the village. At first they had strolled around in a sort of awkward way, unable to think of anything to say. Well, Rita had always been quiet. But William? What excuse did William have for his silence? It made Rita feel a bit nervous. Was he planning something? Would he be as snotty and sneery on the street as he was at school? It mortified her to think of all those townspeople glaring down at that horrid little boy – and his companion.

Finally she dared to mention that she needed some stamps. William didn’t put up any resistance; instead, he followed behind her in an almost docile manner. In the shop, he stood back and stared broodily at the displays. She watched him out of the corner of her eye – how he hunched over, tracing patterns into the floor with the tip of his shoe, his hands stuck in his pockets, and there was something so familiar about the way he was holding himself, the way he wouldn’t meet anyone’s eye –

It hit her quite unexpectedly, and the words burst from her mouth before she could think them over.

“You’re _shy_ , aren’t you?”

He started. “What? What – no...no, of – of course not –”

There was something so absurd about the idea of loud, obnoxious William Robinson being _shy_ of all things. Rita began to giggle. William immediately flared with rage.

“Don’t laugh at me!”

“Oh – I’m not laughing at you – really, I’m not.” She reached over and took his hand; he stared down at her fingers like they were snakes. “It’s alright. I’m really very timid too sometimes.”

She couldn’t seem to stop chuckling. He looked from her hand to her face, back to her hand again – and then he was spluttering – and then he was laughing too.

They bought the stamps from the slightly bemused shop keeper, and then they were back on the street – talking now, properly.

He was funny. And he was friendly. And yes, he was shy. In classes, he still yelled at teachers and more often sulked in the corridor than not. “He’s so _awful_ ,” Rita’s classmates whispered when his back was turned.

“He’s not that awful,” Rita mumbled.

Susan and Lily looked at her curiously. “Of course he is. Didn’t you just see –?”

Rita shrugged. In her head, she remembered the jokes he told and the conversations they had started having. Against her will, she began to smile.


	7. Sixth Form

“Do you know what will look absolutely awful? If I fail this year. Imagine – I’ve spent my entire student life at Whyteleafe topping the class, give or take a few years. What if I failed in my very last year?”

“You say this every time you have a test or assignment due. You’ve never failed yet, William, and I don’t think you’re going to now.”

“There’s a first time for everything,” William said darkly.

Rita sighed.

“My French marks are falling every week. My Maths marks are alright, but I am certain I’m failing History and there’s nothing I can do about it –”

“Can we talk about something else?” Rita interrupted, pushing her pen down so hard that ink spurted all over her notebook.

William looked up, startled. “Alright, if it matters that much to you.”

Rita sighed again, more resigned than frustrated. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be so snappy.”

He hesitated. “I know.”

Suddenly she was so very tired. She leaned over and fell against his shoulder, and she sighed once more – and this time it was a sigh of deep and heavy weariness.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me these days,” she mumbled, “Sometimes I feel so sad, and sometimes I feel so angry. And then sometimes I’m empty. As if there is nothing in me at all.”

For a while they simply sat there, under the shade, their books spread on the grass and the sun hot and bright above them.

“There’s lots of stuff in you,” William said finally.

Rita thought that she might have to lift her head now, but it felt nice to let him hold all her weight, so she stayed where she was. “I think I might be going mad, William.”

“You’re not mad. You’re the sanest person I know.”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

“Oh, really?” He shook her off with a little laugh. “It’s alright to feel sad, you know. Or angry, or even empty. Only –”

“Only what?”

“Only…only remember that…” He looked at her a little awkwardly. “It’s strange. I give advice to other students all the time, but it’s different with you.”

“It’s always different with someone you really know.” She was still tired, but it was a nice sort of tired now. More like sleepiness. She dropped back on the grass and closed her eyes.

“Yes. I suppose it is, with someone you…know.”

She listened to the faraway sound of birds and breeze. She almost forgot that he had been saying something, until he finally spoke up.

“Only remember that you don’t have to feel awful alone.”

She opened her eyes. William was looking down at her, a little nervous, in a way he never was when he was talking to the students.

“You remember,” Rita finally said.

“Of course I do.”

They stared at each other for a moment, and then William cleared his throat and laughed.

“Anyway! What are we doing? We came out here to finish prep, and we’ve hardly touched any of our work…”

She sat up and picked one of the books off the grass. The whole atmosphere of the day had shifted, from something sluggish and gray to something – still heavy, but brighter.


	8. First Form

“William?”

“Hold on for a moment.” They were sitting by the lake, throwing rocks into the water. A few days ago, Rita had tried to teach William how to toss flat pebbles across the surface of the lake so that they skipped and jumped like little dragonflies. William had been working hard to get it right ever since, but he still wasn’t nearly as good as she was.

He was leaning over the edge of the pond now, eyes bright with concentration, a rock poised between his fingers. After a tense moment, he let it fly. It jumped once, and then sank obstinately below the surface. For one awful second, he looked absolutely crushed, but then he shook it off and fell back down on the grass beside her. “What is it, then?”

Rita brushed dirt off of her palms. She knew what she wanted to say, but she didn’t know how to begin.

“Are your parents coming for half-term?” she finally asked.

William stiffened, and Rita instantly knew that she had said the wrong thing.

“Are – aren’t they? I’m sorry, I didn’t know –”

“It’s alright.” He was staring across the lake, his hands wrapped around his legs and his chin resting on his knees. He had let his hat fall to the ground beside him and his hair was unruly and messed from the wind. “My parents are – they’re not –”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

They had been friends for nearly a month now, and it was the oddest friendship that Rita had ever been a part of. Sometimes it was tense, like when she could feel him on the edge of one of his rages and it was all she could do to reel him back. But most of the time it was fun – more than fun, actually. She had often had pleasant times with Susan and Lily and all the rest, but during all those pleasant times, she had always felt – a bit like a spectator, or an outsider of sorts. It was different with William. He never looked at her with big kind eyes, never talked to her softly and gently like she was some sort of baby lamb. He argued with her and laughed with her and yelled with her; he was so open and unapologetic that she forgot that she was meant to be quiet and shy. It felt like they had known each other for a lot longer than they really had.

But the truth was that they had not known each other for very long, and it was at moments like these that Rita realized that. She shifted uncomfortably, half-wishing she’d never started this awkward conversation.

“I do want to tell you,” William said, “It’s just –” He exhaled, and then he turned to meet her eye. “My parents died a while back. In an automobile accident. I wasn’t there, I was at home with the nanny, but I heard that it was very quick. They didn’t – I mean – they weren’t ever – in pain.” His eyes might have flickered then, but she wasn’t sure, because he hurried on before she could really take note. “I live with my Aunt Victoria and Uncle George now. Aunt Victoria is my father’s older sister. They don’t like me very much, so I don’t think they’ll make the trip for half-term. And I haven’t really got anyone else –”

He stopped. His stoic mask was crumbling, and she could see the fear piercing through. She took his hand. She hadn’t done that since the first day buying stamps, but now it felt right.

“My parents are coming,” she said. It was difficult to find the words she wanted, but she was determined to do just that. “They were going to take me to the hotel in the village for lunch. Would you like to join us?”

He turned to look at her, slowly. He opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again.

“They wouldn’t...mind?”

“Of course not. They’re always saying I can invite a friend for half-term, but I’ve never really wanted to until now.”

 _Friend_. He mouthed the word to himself.

“They really won’t mind?”

“They really won’t! On the contrary – they’d like it very much.” She hesitated. “I would like it very much.”

He glanced up at her, quickly, through the fringe of his lashes. She waited.

“Well – alright. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

They sat on the lakeside in silence for a while, staring out at the water and the sky.

“Do you want a pebble?” William finally asked, reaching over to pick a flat shard of rock from the space between their feet.

“Okay.”

He turned to drop it into her palm, and it was only then that she remembered to let go of his hand.


	9. Sixth Form

“How was it?” William asked as soon as Rita closed his office door behind her.

“Oh, Belle and Best were pleased. They think we handled the Elizabeth case well.” She sat down on his bed and rested her chin in her hands. “I asked them if they thought she was going to stay at Whyteleafe.”

“And?”

“Oh, you know what they’re like. They said it didn’t matter either way, that we’d tackled the problem nicely and that was what was important. But I think they think she’s going to stay.”

“Hopefully they’re right.”

“You actually like her!”

“Yes, I told you. She could make a good Monitor someday. Maybe even a good Head Girl.”

“That most coveted position.” Rita sat up straight and still for one moment before collapsing on to his bed and spreading her arms out wide. “I feel like riding horses. Do you want to go for a ride?”

“What, right now? I’ve got that essay to complete, and the History test tomorrow. Come to think of it, you have that History test tomorrow too.”

“I loved horses when I was small,” Rita said dreamily, “I thought they were magical. I even loved that thick horsey smell. But I was also so scared of large animals. It took me ages to even dare touch a horse on the nose.”

It had been nearly a year since William had seen Rita go down to the stables. But she had been in such a strange mood all week that he wasn’t willing to put anything past her. “You can go riding tomorrow. Or – over the weekend, maybe. You might be free then…”

“Really!”

“What?”

“We will never be free again for as long as we live. I know that, you know that. Don’t try to fool me, William Robinson.”

“I would never try to fool you, Rita White. I’m not stupid enough to try something like that.”

She nodded with mock approval, and then she passed a hand over her face with a long exhale.

She had her eyes closed, but he knew their exact shade of gray by heart – dark and clear, like a lake or a stone. Her lashes were stark against her cheeks, and her hair was black as a raven’s wing. For a single moment, with the light and the shadows sliding across her cheeks, she was a stranger, calm and beautiful, and he was entranced.

And then she sat up, blinked, and shook the hair out of her eyes. “You were right about the History test, anyway. I should go and study.”

He wanted to ask her to stay a little longer, but he couldn’t think of any good reason to, so instead he let her bounce off of his bed and out of the room. The sheets were crumpled where she had sat, and he got up from his desk to straighten them.

Things were changing. With every passing moment, there was an almost imperceptible shift in the air, and he didn’t know how he felt about it, and he didn’t know what to do.


	10. First Form

He was forgetting what he was supposed to be doing, and the more he thought about it, the more he realized that it was all her fault. And – he didn’t care. That was the worst part, and the best part too. Sometimes when he was awake after light’s out, staring through the dark at the dormitory ceiling, he composed letters in his head – not to the aunt and uncle, but to his parents – and lately, a lot of his letters were about Rita.

_Everyone calls her quiet, and I suppose she is, sometimes, but I don’t really think of her like that. She has lots and lots to talk about – we never run out of things to say. We start out talking about schoolwork, but then suddenly we are exchanging facts about goats, or India, or mountain climbing. She doesn’t like all the things I like, but that’s okay, because then I hear about things I didn’t know existed._

He turned over in bed, eyes wide open in the dark.

_I don’t know why she talks to me. But she’s one of the only people who does._

He was scared for half-term. There – he’d admitted it. He wanted her parents to like him, but it had been so long since an adult had even offered him a halfway pleasant smile. He didn’t know if he remembered what manners were. What if he forgot something important – the right times to say ‘please’ and ‘thank you,’ for instance, or when it was appropriate to shake someone’s hand. He considered telling her that he was busy, that he couldn’t join her for half term after all. The one thing holding him back was that he really wanted to join her. No one had asked him to anything fun since his parents had – since the Accident.

She seemed excited to have him tagging along. Actually excited, about him, awful evil William Robinson. That was another reason not to blurt out an excuse.

Rita’s mother had short curly hair. Her father wore a bright red tie. Rita ran to them as soon as they stepped from their car and threw her arms around them. Her father staggered back and laughed, and they both leaned down to hug her. William stood back, hesitating. Rita and her family were a bundle of arms and laughter. As he watched them he felt something big and hard lodge in his throat, and no matter how much he tried to cough, he couldn’t seem to get it out –

“William!” Rita was waving at him, calling his name. He didn’t want to go over to her and her smiling, happy parents, but before he could think about it, his feet moved him forward and he was standing beside them, his heart thumping so loud he was sure everyone in Whyteleafe could hear it.

They were nice. They were awfully nice. They were so nice it made his insides squeeze up, the same way he felt when he was going to cry. But why would nice people make him want to cry?

“So _you’re_ William Robinson,” said Rita’s father, looking him up and down good-naturedly, “We’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Really?” asked William eagerly, but then he caught himself. “I mean, yes, I’m William Robinson. Pleased to meet you.”

He remembered when to shake hands. He remembered when to say ‘please’ and ‘thank you.’ Rita and William and Rita’s parents drove to the hotel in town, and the food was delicious, and everyone was talking and laughing the entire time. It felt a bit like a dream; somewhere in the back of his head he was waiting for himself to wake up, but he didn’t. Although when the day ended, it did feel like being rudely shaken awake.

“I’m glad you came,” Rita told him as they waved goodbye to her parents’ retreating car, “It was a lot more fun with you around.”

He wanted to tell her all sorts of nice things, but they caught in his throat. He wasn’t used to niceties.

_Just say it, William. For once in your life, try to be agreeable._

“I’m – I’m glad that you invited me,” he finally mumbled.

She glanced over at him, and he could tell that she was amused. For a second, he thought about feeling irritated, but then – he let it go.

“I really am glad,” he said, properly, clearly, “Really. Thank you.”

She smiled and nudged him in a friendly sort of way. He nudged her too, and then they raced each other back to the school.


	11. Sixth Form

It was nearly impossible to hold it all in, to wait for the Meeting to end and for all the students to disperse. To acknowledge the Jury’s words of congratulation, to accept Miss Belle and Miss Best’s radiant smiles. Rita stayed as still and stately as ever she had, smiling genially and nodding at the appropriate moments. Every so often she would catch a glimpse of William beaming and talking in his usual jovial tone. When they caught each other’s eyes they hurriedly looked away, lest one of them exploded and gave the whole thing away.

“You did wonderfully, Rita,” Miss Belle said warmly.

“Thank you, Miss Belle.”

“A splendid job,” Miss Best added, “You and William both.”

“Thank you, Miss Best. We couldn’t have done it without your guidance.”

_Oh please, let this conversation be over. Please please please –_

“You underestimate your own abilities, Rita,” Miss Belle continued, “Now we have only to see if Elizabeth is able to keep up her good behavior.”

“Yes, yes, of course.”

 _Please please_ please _–_

“Well, it’s getting late. We’ll leave you to attend to your work.”

“Thank you, Miss Belle, Miss Best.” Rita nodded at both of them. They smiled back. She followed them out of the Meeting room to the staircase, where they parted so she could ascend to her office. William was already hovering at her doorway, twisting his tie in his hands. She stepped aside to let him in, then gently closed the door behind him.

For a moment they stood and stared at each other. William’s brown eyes sparkled. He opened his mouth, closed it, then tried again.

“She’s staying at Whyteleafe. We did it.”

Another moment of staring ensued. And then –

Rita started to laugh – loud, rumbling laughter that eventually caught up to William as well. Soon they were both doubled over, howling from mirth.

“What’s so funny?”

“I’m – not sure!”

She sat down on her bed, leaning against the headboard, still giggling. William plopped down beside her. “Move over, I’ve got no space.”

“It’s my bed, you can sit in the chair.” She moved over all the same, and then they were looking up at the ceiling together, occasionally bursting into fits of giggles.

“I almost thought –”

“What, that it wouldn’t work?” William scoffed, “Well, I was confident from the start.”

She hit him on the arm. “Liar. I hope she does something amazing at Whyteleafe, so that we can look back proudly and take all the credit.”

“Ah, yes. That’s the real reason we help the children, after all – for the _credit_.”

They sat in silence for a while. Rita felt William’s arm brushing against hers, and when she turned she saw that he was smiling to himself, some personal joke running through his head. She considered saying something funny so she could watch him laugh, but then decided against it. Instead she watched him as he was, with his floppy brown hair falling over his forehead and his tie hanging loose at his neck and the faint grin flitting around his lips and eyes.

It was quiet. And it was nice to sit there in that quiet with him. Not talking or laughing, but just feeling how comfortable the silence could be. Just – being.


	12. First Form

He was waiting for her outside the school, bouncing back and forth on the balls of his feet. Before she could even say hello, he burst.

“I GOT A LEAD ROLE IN THE SCHOOL ANNUAL!”

It took a moment for his ecstatic explosion to take on any meaning.

“You mean – the school play? You’re in the school play?”

William nodded. His smile stretched from ear to ear.

“William! That’s –” Rita hesitated, wondering how to respond. She herself could not see how being in the school play was a cause for celebration. The very idea of standing up in front of all those parents and students and teachers – and Miss Belle and Miss Best themselves! – made her feel a little weak. Nevertheless, she could tell from one glance at William that he was thrilled.

“That’s wonderful,” she finally said, smiling back at him. It wasn’t hard to do; his happiness was infectious. “What play are they doing this year?”

“ _Peter Pan_.” Now that he had gotten the big news out of his system, he took on a nonchalant tone, as though this was the sort of thing that happened to him every day. “I’m going to be Wendy’s brother, John. Oh – and guess who I beat to get the role? _Sebastian St. Andrews!_ ” William was not on the best terms with most of his classmates, but there was no one he despised more than Sebastian. In all fairness, Sebastian was a snob, and particularly rude around William. “I was hoping for Peter, but of course the real lead roles will go to the older students. Anyway, John is a great role too, especially if Sebastian St. Andrews doesn’t get it. “

“I always liked Wendy’s brothers better than Peter anyway,” Rita told him.

She was happy for him, of course she was, but the real impact of William’s role in the school play took some time to sink in. It started when they were walking out of class. Susan and Lily brushed past them, offering Rita a smile. Rita smiled back, and then braced herself for the usual cold look in William’s direction. Strangely enough, it didn’t come.

“Are you coming to rehearsal today, William?” Lily asked. She spoke so cheerfully and brightly that it was impossible to believe that she had ever considered him anything other than her best friend.

“’Course I am,” William replied, barely missing a beat.

“Alright! I’ll see you there!”

Lily swept by with one more nod in Rita’s direction. Rita stared after her, a little disoriented.

“Did she just –?”

“She’s playing Tiger Lily in _Peter Pan_ ,” William interrupted, a little too loudly, “Isn’t that funny, since they both have sort of the same name?”

Rita turned to look at him, but he pointedly avoided her gaze.

It was like that all week. Sebastian St. Andrews sulked and pointedly turned up his nose whenever he was in William’s presence, but people who had previously turned up their noses with Sebastian or laughed behind William’s back now grinned and chatted with perfect friendliness. Other _Peter Pan_ cast members stopped him in the halls to exchange inside jokes, and they all laughed together before going on their way. It seemed that with every passing rehearsal, William became more and more popular.

It was bemusing at first. The change was so unexpected and sudden that Rita almost felt like it was all a big joke. It soon became clear that William’s popularity was real, though. People who saw him at rehearsals came to like him, and then their friends met him and liked him too, and so on, and so forth… Soon even the teachers were being nicer. They didn’t yell at him quite so much anymore – though perhaps that had to do with the fact that William didn’t give them as much to yell about.

“It’s difficult to be awful to people who actually like you,” William said one day.

The impossible was really happening, then. Whyteleafe was finally starting to realize that Awful William Robinson was not quite as awful as he liked to appear.

Rita wasn’t sure what she thought about the change. Sometimes when William was caught up in a crowd of his new admirers, she felt a little lost. She had gotten so used to being his only friend; now that he had so many, it was easy to feel…not wanted. Most of the time, however, she was happy for him. And happy for herself. The days of having to explain her friendship with William were, hopefully, over.


End file.
